Transformers Valentines Day
by Abigail Rose V
Summary: A look inside the ARK and at Megatron on Valentines Day


Optimus smiled behind his mask as the bots in the dining room tried to hide glances at one another, and at least two specific bots- Jazz and Tracks-were making all-to-obvious motions at their many sweetsparks.

For those two bots at least, Valentines Day meant an interface smorgasbord, with their main bot saved for last.

Jazz had at least two or three, maybe four or more, bots who were deadly serious about spark bonding with him though Jazz showed no sign of being ready to bond with anyone as yet.

Tracks was almost just as popular, but he was more serious then Jazz, and so broke less sparks.

Optimus himself received many cards, but only one card was from his true love, and it was a secret.

Megatron and his relationship was known to none but the two of them-and possibly Soundwave and Jazz.

It was hard to hide _anything_ from those two, and Prime suspected a three-way relationship of sorts between Prowl, Jazz, and Jazz and Soundwave.

And maybe Blaster, but Prime tried to keep apart from the dramas of the base, so he couldn't be too sure.

Megatron was plain as always, his card having a straight-forward command wrote on it.

Megatron only hand-wrote very important things, and this was one of them, Prime knew.

 **COME TO MY BERTH-CHAMBER TONIGHT.**

Prime smiled again behind his mask.

Tonight was going to be fun.

They had not had a night together in a long time.

He was sure Megatron was going to have many surprises for him, and he looked forward to every one.

Megatron paced his berth-chamber, overwrote with anger and lust.

Anger at his secret admirer, for never having revealed who he was before disappearing out of his life, and lust for Optimus Prime, who had sent him a very sugary card as always, but the Decepticon warlord didn't care so much for the card as having Prime under his control, mewing and writhing helplessly beneath him, begging shamelessly for more, for harder, for all of him.

Just thinking of it had Megatron very aroused, and he wished he had his favorite toy around so he could relive his little problem on him, but Starscream had disappeared even earlier then usual this morning, and even seemed lighter on the wings.

Probably because his master was missing a love card.

No matter, he would pay for his glee later on, after Megatron had his fun with his true love.

Starscream, after all, was just a toy.

Nothing special.

Even though he _was_ a very good toy…

Skyfire was purring so loudly, Ratchet had stuck his head in to see what was the reason.

He had taken one look at the large, very elaborate gift, and had exited rather quickly.

Starscream must have spent _months_ working on this, but Skyfire knew very well he probably had done it in less then a day.

The multi-surfaced prism, radiant in several different colors, was inscribed all over in Starscream's neat, precise hand-writing.

Poems, songs, artwork- all for him, and so expertly crafted!

Skyfire was certain no one in the known galaxies had ever received such an intricate display of love in all of recorded history.

Starscream must have really missed him.

Skyfire would have dearly loved to have interfaced with him, but shortly after they had been re-united, Starscream had made it very clear he could not interface at all anymore, and he refused to go into greater detail then that.

Other then to reassure his concerned love that he was still intact and that all his interface systems were running top-line.

He just wouldn't- _couldn't_ \- do it.

Skyfire had seen burning pain in those ruby optics, and had never asked again.

But still… if only he could hold the smaller seeker in his arms like he used to, just for a little bit…

Suddenly Skyfire saw something he had not noticed before.

There was a pattern to the way some of the words went.

Excitedly, he put them altogether, and:

 **MEET ME AT YOUR DISCOVERY SITE, SPARK OF MY SPARK.**

Skyfire tucked the crystal in his subspace, and took off, breaking the sound barrier as he did so, not noticing the other bots diving for cover as he streaked though the base and out the door, heading north.

Already he could feel his little seeker snuggled up against his chest.

Soon, soon.

Then he would be there, with him, where he belonged.

Where _both_ of them belonged.

Ratchet watched while Ironhide struggled to keep his composure as Bumblebee shyly handed him a small package.

Ironhide bent down and gave the little bot an awkward hug, then stood back up and hastily strode away.

Which was odd.

Ironhide normally would have opened the package right then and there, kindly thanked the cute little yellow bot for his gift, and then teased him a bit, not look so flustered and embarrassed.

The old CMO would have given energon chips to know what was up with Ironhide this year.

And why all the other bots kept giving him sly, sideways glances and quickly covering their mouths to stop themselves from laughing when he walked past.

Ratchet generally never got Valentines Day cards, but he always scoffed at the notion anyway, so no one bothered.

That, and he wasn't the favorite mech of the base, either.

He was the medic, after all.

Sure, he saved their lives with his expertise, but he also was the one who beat their afts whenever they stepped an inch out of line, if Prowl didn't get to them first.

And the one who gave them shots, jerked their fuel lines during checkups, and bossed them around, taking away privileges whenever they threatened their health, like staying up most the night to listen to music, or watch TV, or play video games, or work.

Ratchet was grumpy, bossy, and could be mean.

So no, he didn't expect any cards from anyone, other then the usual, _Thanks Ratchet We Can't Survive Without You So For That You Are Loved_ sort of card, which he pitched in the trash, but secretly dug out later and kept.

It wasn't that he didn't love, or want loved, he just knew that if he allowed himself to get too close to the bots he may one day never see again, the spark ache would tear him apart.

The Autobots needed someone to kick transistors and keep them alive and in one part; otherwise there would be no army.

But deep down, Ratchet wished the one bot he felt inclined towards would show him more then just respect.

He wished he would see him for more then just the grumpy medic that only lightened up when drunk.

He wished…. Oh pit with it, he wanted _love_.

Love from Ironhide, the crusty old warrior that took no lip from anyone, even him, and kept the Prime alive and in order just as well as Ratchet.

But the chances of Ironhide having a tender spot in his spark from an old medic model like himself, well, Ratchet knew he had no chance of that.

And this day was being far worse then previous years' celebrations; this year, Ironhide avoided him with every step he took, going so far as to freeze in the hall when he happened to meet him, then whirl and dash away as though Unicron was on his tailpipes.

All in all, Ratchet was feeling pretty miserable as he rounded the corner to the entrance to his medical bay.

The sight that met him in his own doorway almost caused him to have a spark seizure.

Ratchet stumbled, gasping as his intakes shuddered all the breath out of his suddenly leaded body as he gaped in open astonishment at the mech before him, holding a spray of roses and looking decidedly uncomfortable and nervous.

"Ratchet," the mech began, "Ah jes' wanted ta say, Happy Vahlentines Dah. Ah hope ya won't mind da flowahs? Ah'm not real good wi' this love thing ya know."

"Oh frag you Ironhide." Ratchet stalked forward and snatched the roses from the strong servos that held them, burying his nose in them as though he had never smelled any before.

"Yah like em?" Ironhide asked nervously.

" Yes, but I like you better." Still clutching the roses, Ratchet lunged forward and crashed his lips into a surprised Ironhide's, kissing him visously, the old warrior taking a second or two to respond, but then kissing him just as deeply and passionately.

When they finally broke the kiss, Ratchet discovered Ironhide's burly arms were wrapped tightly around him, and his own servos were locked behind that thick, powerful neck.

Ratchet leaned back as far as Ironhide would allow him, and grinned at his newly-admitted beloved. " I don't supposed you'd let me go now, would you?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh no." Ironhide began dragging Ratchet into the medical bay. "It's jes come to mah mahnd tha' no one's evah tested yer interfahce systems befer. They may be defective. We're gonna change tha'." And he threw the compliant medic onto a berth and clambered on top of him, effectively pinning him down.

Outside, Jazz turned to the crowd of eager bots, and thumbs upped at them. "They're doing it boys, job well down."

All the Autobots high-fived each other and grinned broadly as they all crept back down the hall and resumed activities.


End file.
